


The Mongoose and The Snake

by sofiathefool



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal, Blowjobs, F/M, Hannibal Cooks, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Never - Freeform, Poor Alana, Psychological Manipulation, Ravenstag, Sexies, Smut, Torture, Violence, Worshipping bodies, alana is awesome, also, and will trying to come to terms with eveything, bev is awesome, chapter 4 really gets the action going, chapter 5 is basically hannibal confessing, chapter 6 is the smut, chapter 7 is all about our women, dark!Will, dom!hannibal, freddie is awesome, hannibloom, he is so important, heads are bashed, it will be happening, never forget jack, ravenstag has offspring, sub!Will, throats are slit, will is in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofiathefool/pseuds/sofiathefool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being framed by Hannibal, Will Graham goes to jail. Loneliness seeps into the lives of everyone, who are trying to deal with this new loss. With the reveal of The Chesapeake Ripper’s responsibility for Will’s alleged murders, the empath is released under the terms he’ll stay under psychiatric supervision. But Will’s time in jail changed him. With an incurable anger and developing bloodlust, Graham will seek vengeance. How?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to the time where the story is set and the events that will have some relevance in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my love for NBC's Hannibal is growing increasingly fast (along with my fascination with the books and movies), I decided I'd contribute to the fandom with an idea that has been poking my brain for a very long while.
> 
> Thus, here it is, my first Hannigram fanfiction.
> 
> Hopefully, this prologue will be a good appetizer.

It was a cold and rainy day, which really translated its sad nature.

Jack Crawford felt the tears start rolling down his face. It had been happening many times lately, but, this time, his tears held an air of finality to them, like a farewell’s kiss traded between a soldier and his wife. Yet, he forced himself to look as Bella’s coffin descended to the grave, where it would lie indefinitely.

Dirt was thrown onto it, and Jack felt himself break. A sob escaped him, which, although normal in these situations, seemed out of place on the crying man.

Jack Crawford, a Special Agent and the head of Behavioral Sciences at the FBI, with such a constant air of dominance and menace. The man who could be selfish, but also so selfless.

The man who found his wife lying lifeless on the ground next to spilled sleeping pills.

A strong man who felt weak.

“Oh, Bella”, he’d call out at night, clawing at the air as if searching for his wife’s physical presence. He’d have to get used to the empty space, though, as his love was not coming back.

Fake compassion spilled from the hand placed on his shoulder, its grip smooth yet firm. A cold warmth invaded the agent’s body suddenly, who started to feel weak in his knees.

Jack looked around, finding familiar faces nearby, all frowning, looking quite displeased. Of course the level of dismay displayed on their faces ranged with how close to Jack or Bella Crawford they were on an emotional level. While her family looked heartbroken, his science team, for instance, consisting of Katz, Price, and Zeller, seemed upset, worried.

Looking down, he covered his face with his hands, wanting to hide from everyone. Solitude was something he desired at the moment, though he would not be getting it any time soon, as a female figure wrapped itself around Jack. Not caring for who she was, Jack let himself fall into the embrace, holding on to dear life.

With his physical weight, Jack also dropped some of his pain on the person, who breathed in shakily.

As the man sobbed, the person looked up to find their own fling, the one who had let Jack’s shoulder go. The man looked down and then back up, meeting the woman’s eyes. When the coffin was completely covered and the ground levelled, he arched his eyebrows ever so slightly, the woman nodding in response.

“Jack, it is time to leave. You will jeopardize yourself if you stay any longer. Please, come.”, whispered the man with a voice like honey, only made smoother by his thick accent.

Placing his right arm around Jack’s shoulders, the man guided the agent through the cemetery to his car, the woman following shortly behind.

The journey to Jack Crawford’s house was silent, although not uncomfortable. Little to no words could be said to alleviate such heavy environment.

Once they arrived, the man completed the task of getting Jack Crawford ready for bed. Once the man had been reassured, warned and comforted, the pair left the house, each going to their own.

* * *

 

‘Nocturne’ by Chopin made itself be heard through Hannibal Lecter’s office, as he sipped on a glass of Rainwater. The doctor glanced down at his watch and perceived that the pointers indicated 7 P.M.

Sighing, the good doctor closed his eyes, leaning back on his chair.

Five months.

For five long months, Will Graham had been away.

Hannibal did not regret his decision: he absolutely did not rue framing the empath for his own murders - it was all just a big game, after all -, though he did mourn Will’s absence.

To him, Will meant life, as absurd as it might sound. He represented everything which the doctor lacked. While Will was too sensitive and empathetic, Dr. Lecter was a touch too apathetic in most situations. His well-crafted mask managed to hide it, though, and most did not want to believe that Hannibal was, indeed, the Chesapeake Ripper.

Passing off as a mere charming middle-aged man with a refined taste for classical music and exquisite dishes and extensive knowledge on Medicine and Psychology, Dr. Lecter was, in fact, an intelligent psychopath. He was also a cannibal who could not keep his eating habits to himself, at least not truly.

He was thought to be the Devil in disguise, or, as others might prefer to call him, the Antichrist, when, in reality, he was but a man. A human being who, after a traumatizing event in his childhood, grew up wrong.

He grew up to become a monster.

Few were the ones who realized it, and, in that short list, most names had a tick for “Dead” or “Taken care of”.

With his long experience, Dr. Hannibal Lecter came to understand that killing off his enemies was dull. He much preferred to study them, toy around with them, discover their breaking points, use it against them and, after seeing them squirm, kill them off slowly.

Of course, when he wanted to kill as the Chesapeake Ripper, he did put on a show. Pre-mortem surgical removal of organs, replacements, mutilation, and then, the union of all elements needed in order to create a work of art.

His art. One which many did not comprehend and chose to not even try.

He worried not, as, hopefully, his good Will would surely come to understand it. He just needed time, and time was something that Dr. Lecter knew how to manage just fine.

But his patience was growing thin.

Suddenly feeling a wave of zeal, the doctor followed his impulse and grabbed his coat. He locked his office and left, taking off to a place he knew he’d be welcome.

* * *

 

Dr. Alana Bloom laid on her bed with the same clothes she’d worn that day. She didn’t bother taking them off and couldn’t bring herself to care about them.

She stared into the dark that invaded her room, feeling it seep into her soul. A single tear escaped from her left eye and rolled freely down her pristine features, uninterrupted. The woman felt weak, confused and, somehow, betrayed. However, she did not recognize the origins of such feeling:

Was it because Will revealed himself to be completely different from what she’d initially idealized and even defended? Was it because nobody understood her choices and looked down upon her? Or was it because she bewailed how she refused to even reconsider everything before taking sides?

She knew she could be closed-minded, she knew she could be protectionist towards what she believed, she knew she could be selfish, and, above all, she knew she was a difficult person. Although she grew to accept her personality, she still put up a fight with it, especially when she doubted her reality.

Her thoughts were interrupted, though, as she heard a knock on the door.

Sighing, Alana figured she couldn’t let herself sink any further. She definitely needed to get a distraction from everything.

Quickly going from her room to the door, Alana peeked through the peephole to find one of the people who were causing her internal conflict.

Opening the door, Alana smiled and invited Dr. Lecter in. She saw that he had a bottle of red wine in his hands, and immediately guided him to her kitchen.

“I hope I am not causing you any inconvenience.”, confessed Lecter, as he followed the woman.

“Of course not. You’re always welcome. Especially now…”, sighed Alana as she went to find some appropriate glasses to serve the wine.

“How so?”

“Let’s just say I tend to assess my own feelings instead of acting upon them. I was doing just that before you arrived.” Alana handed the glasses to Hannibal, who, by now, had managed to open the bottle. He accepted the goblets with a small smile and served them.

“It is the safest approach.”, he replied, handing her the respective glass.

“May be, but not the best.”

The pair moved to the living room and sat down on her couch, facing one another.

“Is the situation surrounding me a cause for your unsettlement?”

Alana looked down, not wanting to meet the doctor’s eyes as she felt a wave of misplaced shame invade her. “Some of it, yes. I don’t know where to place my beliefs.”

Hannibal sighed and inspected the room. “I cannot tell you in whom you should believe. You shall make that decision by yourself.”

Alana looked at Hannibal, surprised, as she felt defeat radiating from the man. “I want to believe you, and I make myself believe in you daily, but, sometimes, the accusations become overwhelming.”

“I know that…” Hannibal paused, “It’s starting to weigh on me. The sideways glances and the mistrust in the air… I need to breathe some fresh air, I need to clear my skies from such pollution.”

“Everyone needs it. This case… It’s starting to wear us all off.”

Dr. Lecter nodded, agreeing. “That’s why I am leaving the FBI. I can’t dwell on death anymore. It is ruining my love for life, and that is something I cannot allow to happen.”

“Have you already spoken with Jack about it?”, she asked, tilting her head faintly.

“No, and I don’t believe this to be the appropriate time to do so. The subject must be approached whenever Jack comes back to himself, at least as much as possible”

Alana looked down, tight-lipped, and stirred the wine within her glass. She sipped it, the flavor invading all her senses. It was a delicious wine, one she did not recognize. Probably another lavish drink Dr. Lecter kept stored in his cellarets.

“I don’t believe Jack will ever be the same…”, Alana admitted, looking away. “The loss of a spouse takes its toll on anyone. Especially in conditions such as these…”

“When Bella first tried to kill herself, she decided to take her last breaths in my presence. She thought I’d let her go. Afterwards, I think she realized that, if she wanted to leave forever by her own hands, she’d have to do it alone.”

“And so she did…”, whispered Alana. She looked at Hannibal, crossing her legs.

“Why did you do it? Why did you bring her back if you knew she wanted to die?”

Hannibal hesitated, obviously resolving which answer he’d provide.

“As a doctor, I had no choice. As a philosopher, I had too many…”

Alana’s features somewhat defaced into a squint, as she contemplated what could be implied in his response. She remained taciturn on that matter, though, not wanting to spoil anything.

Then, a hand pressed itself against her face, caressing it gently.

“Come.”, Hannibal said, getting up.

He offered his hand to her. “You need to rest.”

Alana stood up, took his hand, and followed him.

“Do you mind if I keep you company? I can stay until whenever you want me to.”

“It would be nice to have some company tonight.”, she said, smiling.

The pair laid down comfortably on Alana’s bed, and soon she felt herself drift away.

* * *

 

It was midnight, and Alana had been sleeping for a solid hour so far. Hannibal carefully shifted, getting out of the bed. He snapped his fingers twice next to each of her ears, verifying her state of unconsciousness. He laid down the covers atop her body, cleaned her glass and left the house silently, taking her keys with him.

He stopped quickly at his house, changed into his surgeon uniform, and took off to the nearest hospital, the one he knew Abel Gideon was signed in at.

After a beating at Baltimore’s State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, on account of Gideon’s arrogance and lack of scruples, the former surgeon was taken to the hospital. With a broken spine, the man was not going anywhere, which left him completely vulnerable to Dr. Lecter’s intentions.

* * *

 

The birds chirped outside and the scent of wet dirt filled Alana’s nostrils. She opened her eyes, adjusting to the light. She looked up at the man laying beneath her, finding a sleeping Dr. Lecter. She smiled and closed her eyes again, savoring the moment.

A moment that was too brief, given it was interrupted by Hannibal’s ringing phone.

The doctor woke up, his eyes opening slowing. He groaned and looked down at Alana, to whom he wished a good morning. He reached for his cellphone on the bedside table and answered the call. “Hello?”, he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Where are you?”, roared Jack Crawford’s voice from the other side of the line. Seemingly, it was enough to properly wake Hannibal up.

If the interruption hadn’t been so rude, Alana would be snickering.

“I went to your house but you weren’t there.”

“I am at a friend’s house, Jack. Why are you so anxious? Did something happen?”

“Abel Gideon was taken from the hospital and a security guard was murdered in his room. Where were you last night?”

“I was here.”, Hannibal answered shortly, his expression hardened.

“Is there anyone that can confirm that?”

Alana felt she needed to intervene at that moment. She took the phone from Hannibal’s hand and put it on speaker mode, “He was with me all night.”

There was a hesitation from Jack, who probably was puzzled.

“Why do you treat him like a suspect, Jack?”, Alana asked, growing angrier. “You analyzed and questioned him. You’ve searched his belongings and found nothing. Why do you keep insisting?”

“I am not accusing Dr. Lecter of anything. I was just checking.”

Alana shook her head in disbelief and Hannibal replied, “No, you weren’t.”

Alana ended the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading the prologue! 
> 
> I cannot promise you a fixed updating schedule, though I'll get working on it. I'll try to update at least, once a week, though I think posting Chapter 1 sooner than that. I want Will to enter the action as soon as possible. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and, if you did, I hope you stay tuned. ^^


	2. C.1. - Liberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter: Will has a nightmare and, when he wakes up, he discovers he's free. The chapter narrates his arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I am glad that you are here again. :)
> 
> As I told you guys, I suck at keeping with a schedule. I promised this chapter for earlier but procrastination impeded that from happening. At least I managed the weekly update. 
> 
> It wasn't so bad after all. 
> 
> Now, please, do proceed you reading. :)

Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop…

Will Graham had been sitting on his bed, cloistered within his cell, and the sound of hooves hitting the ground had been haunting him for a while, coming closer and closer, daring him…

Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop….

Closer and closer it got, and Will couldn’t help but tremble. His body was tense, sweating like pig, but he refrained from moving. He kept as still as he could.

Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop.

The sound ceased, leaving the area silent, eerily so.

Will looked slowly to his right, at his cell’s door. There it stood, in all its magnificence – the ravenstag.

This strange creature, product of Will’s imagination, had the body of a regular stag, though, instead of hair, it was covered in raven feathers. It was majestic, strikingly so, and it shot clout through the hearts of anyone who encountered it.

That anyone only consisted of Will, of course.

The empath got up slowly, as if not to startle the creature. He traipsed towards the door inaudibly, stopping close to the door. He stared into the eyes of the beast, trying to show he was not afraid.

The stag tilted its head, its right antler scraping the ceiling.

The sound made Will shiver, who immediately composed himself.

Then, a click.

Will looked down at the lock in his door and noticed that it started to open slowly. As it moved, the metal scraped on the ground, the noise filling the void.

When the door was fully open, the ravenstag tromped away, leaving an invitation behind.

The empath accepted it.

Will followed the stag through the hospital, which lead him to the day room. The creature stopped by the entrance, but Will kept walking, sensing that something wasn’t right.

As he walked, his breaths became shorter and shallower. He looked back, searching for the creature, but found an empty space. It had gone away. Cursing under his breath, Will turned back around.

In front of him was what a psychopath would call a work of art: parts of bodies were hanging from the ceiling, forming the vision of Leonardo Da Vinci in his “Vitruvian Man”. Despite the perfection of the execution, there was something that was out of place: the head was covered.

Slowly, Will approached the assembly. He grabbed the piece of cloth and gently pulled it down. His eyes widened at the sight, gaping. His body was shaking with vigor now, and he thought he was having a panic attack.

To the empath’s horror, the uncovered head was his, its eyes wide with a dead shade of blue, its mouth open and dry lips cracking.

And Will could see; he could see what the killer envisioned while creating this piece, he knew his intentions, and it made his stomach turn.

But what disgusted Will more was who did it.

Several clacks pierced the silence, dancing around Will’s head. He turned around to run, but, when he was about to take off, he fell to the ground, as if his feet were bound together.

He heard laughter coming from everywhere, dancing around him, mocking him.

Will desperately clawed at the ground, trying to move his body, but his path was blocked by hooves. Will closed his eyes, but, when he opened them again, the darkness was gone.

Waking up to the same clacks, Will sat up on his bunk, looking at the ill-mannered nurse who woke him up.

“Hurry up, Graham. Today is your lucky day.”

Confused, Will frowned, letting his silent questions float in the air. The nurse caught them, though.

“The Ripper paid you out. You are free.”

Shocked, Will felt his body freeze, the only thought running around his mind being “What?”.

The nurse hit the door again with his baton, “Come on, hurry up.”

Numbly, Will gathered his clothes. Once the cell door was opened, he followed the nurse to the bathroom, where he was allowed his shower.

* * *

 

It was a bumpy car ride home.

Will could’ve just called a cab and saved many people some trouble, but Chilton had insisted that at least two of the hospital nurses took him home. Graham knew he still wasn’t all that trustworthy, so he understood the precautions taken.

The two nurses that were escorting him had explained what happened to him, unlike the one who woke him up: the Ripper kidnapped Abel Gideon from the hospital he was at after the beating and killed the security guard who was monitoring the area. He set him up as if it was Will’s work: hanging from the ceiling with fishing hooks. In those hooks though were the remains of the four people Will had allegedly killed. This was what made the federal prosecutor drop all charges and, consequently, set Will free.

He just didn’t know if they caught the Ripper or not. He did ask though, but the nurses remained silent.

Will looked at the scenery rushing past him. It was familiar, comforting. Still, he felt as if he was living a dream.

He had awaited this day for such a long time that its arrival felt surreal.

Will looked down at his hands, testing them as if to see if he was awake or not, if this body belonged to him. He verified it did.

He clenched his hands into fists as anger struck him, filling his chest and hardening his expression. He was used to it by now.

Will wasn’t angry because of only being released now, but because he knew the truth. He knew Hannibal framed him, he knew he was the cause of his incarceration, and he sure knew that this was all a game to the psychopath.

The empath was used as a plaything, a toy for Hannibal to chew on slowly to throw away whenever he wanted to.

Following the metaphor, he concluded that Dr. Lecter only let his toy go for a while to pick him up again now.

He wanted to play again, and Will would ensure he’d get what he wanted.

In Will’s mind, Hannibal was a snake: furtive, he undulated on the ground, sneaking after his prey; he bit them, poisoned them, leaving them incapable to fight; he circled them with his body, tightening himself around them, suffocating and deadly. Then, he engulfed them, ate them, and, despite being sated for a certain amount of time, soon enough he’d be back on the hunt, ready to strike another victim.

Fortunately, snakes had predators too.

As Hannibal has told Will, to him, the empath was a mongoose: the mammal which would pursue the snake. He would chase the reptile, relentlessly, until it had nowhere to go. They would fight, ending only with one or both of them deceased.

A fight to the death. Preferably, Hannibal’s death.

The thing is, Will wasn’t a hunter; he was a fisherman. He didn’t stalk, he lured. He didn’t shoot, he caught.

His methods were much cleaner than Hannibal’s and they allowed the empath a much greater deal of patience than his opponent’s.

Will knew what he had to do and he knew how dangerous that would be. He had to seduce Hannibal, come off as submissive and in need for help. He would make the snake want to take him into his lair, make him a permanent resident. He would get to know the vile being, he would make it trust him, and, when appropriate, Will would strike, smiting the creature and throwing it into a cell to rot.  

At least that was his plan.

* * *

 

Will arrived to the sound of barks.

The empath opened the car door, left the vehicle, and immediately ran towards his dogs. The pack nearly engulfed him, licking him and circling him happily, tails wagging and tongues hanging.

Laughing, Graham fell back, landing on his backside. A slight pain shot through him, but he paid it no mind as his attention was now fixed on his dog’s warm welcome.

The sound of a car driving off feel obscure to him.

Though it had felt like only a few minutes of playing with his dogs, Will soon apprehended that the sunset was approaching already.

A vague sense of self-satisfaction took a hold of Will as he realized that he hadn’t lost time, only track of it.

Whistling, the empath called out to his dogs so they could get inside the house. He was quite hungry and he could bet his dogs were too.

When he entered his house, he had to close his eyes and breathe its scent in, something he hadn’t done in a long time. His eyes watered as nostalgia hit him like a train.

Somehow, he managed to make himself move from his spot, set on rediscovering the house all over again. Every corner, every room, every hall way… He was glad to see that all his belongings were left untouched.

His journey lead him to his living room, the space where he spent most of his time. It was wide, compared to the remaining divisions of his home, painted in the same light blue.

There he had his most used objects, including his fishing hooks.

The empath approached the table on which they used to lay with reluctance.  He inspected it, noting that all the materials, except for animal or human remains, were still there, available for use. Obviously, all his old hooks were gone.

Graham couldn’t decide if he wanted to make new ones or not, the once peaceful memories of their conception now degraded. He knew he hadn’t added the human elements to his hooks. He knew it had been Hannibal, though he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done so unknowingly.

Will closed his eyes and turned away, choosing to ignore that line of thought. He went to the kitchen instead, deciding to eat anything that was still edible.

“Nothing can be worse than prison food”, Will thought. When confronted with his pantry though, Will felt disappointed. His stomach growled and he couldn’t avoid missing Hannibal’s meals. At least they were good.

Will fed his dogs instead.

Afterwards, he changed into another outfit and left the house, deciding to grab something to eat at any nearby café.

He walked towards his car and was about to unlock it, but he saw that wasn’t needed. He opened the door and entered the vehicle, noticing a note sitting on the shotgun seat.

The empath hesitatingly picked the paper up, studying it.

By the texture, he could tell it was a high-quality paper, probably from European origins. It was expensive.

Bringing the paper to his nose, he could smell a faint scent of roses and fresh cut grass. Will chose to ignore this detail.

Turning it around, he was greeted by a well-worn yet careful handwriting, one he knew all too well.

The note read:

“ _Dear Will,_

_I am glad to hear that you have been set free._

_I concluded that you would not want to talk to me, so I decided that a note was enough to bring a message to you._

_Welcome back. I hope you enjoy your liberty now you’ve regained it, for it is fleeting as all things._

_Sincerely,_

_Hannibal Lecter”_

Will gulped, storing the note in the glove compartment. He stared at the view of his home in front of him.

“ _I hope you enjoy your liberty now you’ve regained it, for it is fleeting as all things.”_

The subtext was clear, it promising something that Will had not wanted.

The empath took a hold of the steering wheel, his grip tight and strong to the point of his knuckles turning white. His jaw was clenched and his brows furrowed.

A closed fist connected with the steering wheel, strong enough to hurt but weak enough to not break anything. Will closed the car door and started the motor.

He drove away, going way past the cozy little cafés in Virginia and straight to Baltimore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and that I managed to spark some curiosity in you. 
> 
> What do you think Will is going to do in Baltimore? Let me know in the comments you feel like sharing. :)
> 
> See you next week.


	3. C. 2.: A Meeting in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will refrains himself from acting on impulse and carefully plans his actions. Hannibal has a consultation with a patient and goes back to his assaulted house. There's a meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! :)
> 
> After a long ass time, I am back.
> 
> I am sorry for this HUGE delay, but school and writer's block screwed up my plans. :/
> 
> Now everything's back to normal, though, and this story is ready to go! :D 
> 
> I feel that my writing has changed slightly in this chapter, compared to the other ones, but that might just be me.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!! :)

Will buried his face in his hands, feeling quite protected in the darkness behind closed eyes. He drew in a shaky breath of cold air, which refreshed his whole body, filtrating all of the tar panic within him.

Looking up, he met the forest surrounding him, familiar, home-like, comforting. He didn’t get too far on the road before having a full-on panic attack, though. Twenty minutes later, there Will still was, calming down, feeling better.

After musing for a while, he’d concluded that it was most likely better this way. If he hadn’t gone into panic, he would still be driving to his doom. He’d be acting on impulse. He couldn’t afford that, especially at this point. He had to be careful, very careful. Thorough.

He got out of the car, which was stopped at the side of the road, and walked around for a bit to clear his mind.

It seemed that he wasn’t meant to get very far because, minutes later, a car stopped by him. Driving it was an older looking man, around his fifties, with greying hair and cold dry eyes, in a very dark shade of green.

“Need any help, young man?”, asked the stranger, his voice raspy from the cold of that afternoon.

“No, I am fine, thank you.”, Will responded, raw, not in the mood for engaging in chit chat.

The man looked around and then back at Will, “You’re gonna freeze out here.”

“I said I’m fine, thank you.”

Will started walking again. He heard a scoff and some murmuring, but never looked back. Eventually, the man’s car drove past him.

When the last echo of the motor reached his ears, he realized how alone he truly was. He sighed, crossed his arms, and kept walking.

* * *

 

Hannibal sat by his desk at his office, waiting for his next appointment, Guilherme Pontes, a Luso-descendant middle-aged man who savored an easy gained life due to the fortune he inherited after his father’s death. He was a petty, remorseful person, ill-mannered and rude, but he was also unstable, thrown off balance easily in adverse situations.

The knock on the door revealed Pontes’s arrival.

Lecter politely greeted his patient, shaking his hand and inviting him in. The man did as he was told, leaving his jacket on the back of the patient’s chair. He paced around the room, radiating bad energies. Hannibal could just guess what happened.

“Who is the target of your anger, Guilherme?”, asked Hannibal, sighing afterwards to himself.

Pontes climbed the stairs and went to the upper bookshelves at the office. He tapped along each shelf as he walked by them, creating an annoying melody, erratic, furious.

Five long minutes passed with Pontes only walking back and forth, going and returning. It’s not like Hannibal wasn’t used to it, Guilherme always did that when he arrived at the consultation angry. He would confess in…

3…

2…

1…

“It was him …”

Hannibal’s eyes widened slightly. Something that seemed worthy of attention finally happened. He could smell the fear.

Now interested, Lecter frowned, fine lines wrinkling his face, molding it into his best “interested and slightly worried” expression.

“What happened?”

“He came to my house… H-he knocked – KNOCKED – on the door. H-h-he asked me where she was… Just that! Just, “ONDE ESTÁ ELA, GUILHERME?”. No hello, no “How are you?”, he just wanted to know where she was. I wasn’t going to tell him, of course. She asked me to keep a secret. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”, she’d said. H-he pushed me out of the way and walked around the house, looking for her. HE EVEN WENT TO THE FUCKING BACKYARD! I just stood there, against the wall. He obviously found nothing, so he returned, punched me in the gut, and said “Seu paneleiro de merda, tu vais ver. Se eu não a encontrar até amanhã, tu estás fodido.” I am so screwed… He’s never going to find her…”

Guilherme looked at Hannibal for the first time since he arrived. The psychiatrist had a confused look on his face. He knew how to speak many languages, but not Portuguese.

“Oh, sorry. He said something like “You fucking faggot, you’ll see. If I don’t find her until tomorrow, you are fucked.” Something like that.”

Nodding, Lecter asked, “Who is she, Guilherme?”

Guilherme went to the lower floor of the office and sat in front of Hannibal. He looked straight into the psychiatrist’s eyes, and whispered “My… My sister…”

“Why does he want to find her?”, Dr. Lecter asked, leaning back on his chair.

“Y-you see, he’s our uncle. I told her he wasn’t trustworthy, that our dad and he had a violent history, but she didn’t listen to me. One day, she caught him in bed with some woman at his house, after he invited her. She was confused and asked what was going on. He just had this predatory smile on his face. She knew something was wrong. She tried to run away, but he grabbed her, threw her onto the floor and raped her there. She told me that the other woman looked terrified, but he obliged her to come to him, otherwise she’d be killed. She went and was forced to kiss my sister, and do some other gruesome stuff…”

“My sister’s been scarred deeply since then, and, every once in a while, she relives that night, especially in the days when he appeared in front of her, asking for  forgiveness. Afterwards, she found out she had AIDS, so she decided to sign herself in a hospital in L.A. Somehow, he found her location and traveled there. He attacked her.”

“She’s still in hospital, but in Porto now. He doesn’t have the means to travel around much, and there’s the advantage that he doesn’t consider places outside the U.S. Obviously, he started to come after me. Today was the worst encounter…”

Tears were streaming down his face, but he seemed composed.

“What do I do now, Dr. Lecter? What do you, with your wisdom and knowledge, advise me to do?”

Lecter leaned forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I advise you to stay the night in my house, but, before you come, you should write down a note with my address and leave it on the counter. Make it seem like you forgot it on your kitchen table. Get some essential belongings and come as soon as possible. He should arrive tomorrow by dinner time.”

“And what will you do then?”, asked Guilherme, tilting his head.

Lecter smiled, leaning back on the chair and crossing his legs.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

 

It was 7:30 P.M., time for Will Graham’s consultation.

Lecter sat by his desk, listening to Mozart and waiting. He was convinced that Will would return and ask for his services again soon. If not that day, it would be on the day afterward, or the next.

That full hour passed, with no sign of Will Graham in his office. Deciding that it was enough waiting for the day, he grabbed his coat and left.

When he arrived at his house, he felt there was something wrong. He inspected the front door’s lock. It had been picked recently. He looked around and tried to scent the air, but no distinguishing smell made itself apparent in his nostrils.

He opened the door, entered the house, and closed it loudly behind him.

He went to the kitchen, his steps echoing through the not-so-empty house. He opened his fridge and rummaged through it, taking out a bottle of wine. He rested it on the kitchen table and got two glasses. As he searched for them, he heard a floorboard creak.

He composed his breathing and turned around normally. He found a figure in the dark, unmoving, holding a gun aimed at him.

Hannibal put down the glasses and opened the bottle, trying to ignore the figure.

“Please, do enter my kitchen. I have just opened this nice bottle of Pinot Noir. Would you like to have some?”

The figure said nothing, only approaching him slowly.

“It seems that you do.”, Hannibal said cheerfully, smiling. He poured the wine in both glasses and extended one to the figure.

The person took it, still holding the gun high in the air.

“Did you know that this is one of the lightest tasting reds? Its color is lighter than other reds and it is quite translucent. It’s very complex and smooth and pairs very well with most kinds of food, even the unconventional ones, like duck, salmon, and turkey.”

Hannibal sipped the wine, his right hand tensing around it.

The figure, whoever it was, dropped the glass on the floor, spreading shards everywhere.

“That was very rude, Mister… Or Missus…”

He heard a click and his heart beat got slightly quicker.

“I didn’t quite catch your name…”, Lecter tried, taking one last risk.

The person walked towards him, pushed him against the fridge and put their arm on Lecter’s throat, pressing it.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

Lecter stopped struggling and just stared. The corners of his lips twitched.

“You are late.”

“I know. Had to stop in the way here to change into something more appropriate for the occasion.”

Hannibal was now full-on smiling.

“You know that you could have waited outside for me? You would be welcome anyway. This was much more dramatic and boisterous than necessary.”

“I guess you rubbed it off on me.”

The figure pressed itself even more against Hannibal, although the arm on his neck was substituted by the person’s hand.

“You seem to be alright. I’m glad.”

“So am I.”

Their faces were close, just a few inches away, and Hannibal could feel the man’s breath on his mouth. The man’s lips brushed Lecter’s, a feather-light touch, teasing. Their noses were pressed softly against each other and their gazes met in an unbreakable stare.

Hannibal made the move and pushed himself forward, both of them falling. The figure let go of the gun, it sliding across the floor. The man tried to punch Hannibal but he was faster. Lecter grabbed the man’s fist and pressed it against the floor. With his free hand, Lecter punched the man’s groin, who howled in pain.

Quickly, Lecter got up and retrieved the weapon, pointing it towards the man. Hannibal turned on the light, revealing completely who was curled up on the floor.

“You see, dear Will, if you had entered politely, this wouldn’t have happened”, Hannibal commented, signaling towards Will’s groin.

Lecter extended his free hand and Will grabbed it, getting up. Hannibal unloaded Will’s gun, giving it back but keeping the bullets. He wouldn’t be surprised if Will had more hidden in his coat.

“This encounter would’ve been so much more pleasurable if you were more courteous.”

Will scoffed.

Hannibal approached Will, who backed away until he hit the counter. Hannibal crowded him and caressed his cheek, “I missed your presence here. This reminds me of old times.”

Will looked down, avoiding Hannibal’s stare. He rested his hands on the counter behind him, bracing himself.

Lecter tilted his head to the side and kissed Will’s cheek. He drew back and let Will go.

Will seemed trapped in his spot, so Hannibal stored the gun safely in one of his least used drawers and started to clean the floor.

“Your presentation seems to be more polished, William, although you could still benefit from better clothes.”

Hannibal got up and threw the shards into the bin.

“However, it still pleases me.”

“Everything I do seems to please you”, murmured Will, now looking up.

Hannibal smiled and got his glass. He leant on the counter behind Will, sipping on the wine, “That happens only because it is you, Will.”

Will turned around, leaning on the counter too, “Even the things that are initially meant to hurt you, or, let’s say, put you behind bars?”

“Especially those. Hatred and love are fueled by the same feeling: passion. You can be passionate about people both negatively or positively. Even you hate me and act upon your hatred for me, you are still passionate about me, and that is one of the things I appreciate the most in our relationship.”

Will smiled involuntarily, but let it happen anyway.

Then, the door bell ringed, spoiling the moment the two men were having.

“Please, William, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there again!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. If so, you are welcome to leave some feedback in the comment section. :)
> 
> I'll see you in the next chapter.


	4. C.3.: Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilherme arrives, and soon reveals to be a pain in Will's ass. Not literally.  
> After a disastrous dinner, Hannibal and Will have an important discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there :) 
> 
> Here's to more uploads in a week! *raises glass*
> 
> Now that the block is gone, everything is rolling out of my mind and unto the paper so easily. 
> 
> I am glad to be giving you more material, lately. :) Leaves my mind at peace.
> 
> Now, please, do proceed with your reading. :) I hope you enjoy it.

“What a pretentious, conceited bastard…”, Guilherme muttered to himself as he arrived at Lecter’s house. He hadn’t even seen the interiors yet and he was sure it would be as pompous as the exterior promised.

He approached the door, hitting the door bell, which rang quite loudly. Seemed logic to him: a house that size would require a potent door bell.

Not long after, Lecter opened the door, receiving his guest with as much delicacy and refinement as he always demonstrated during their sessions.

Only this wasn’t supposed to be a professional environment, but a social and supposedly amiable one.

The good doctor guided him upstairs, presented him to his “chambers”, as Hannibal had said – this didn’t serve to minimize Guilherme’s not-so-nice impression of him -, leading him through the house and to the kitchen afterwards.

There, Guilherme had to make a special effort not to laugh at the contrasts before his eyes.

Dr. Lecter entered the kitchen with his impeccable three piece suit – although his hair was in quite a disarray. The room, which was too well-equipped for a single middle aged man whose profession wasn’t cooking, held a certain air of sophistication and elegance to it, much like the remaining rooms of the house. As soon as one entered the compartment, they would assess that this the place was where Dr. Lecter spent most of his time when he was at home.

Then, amongst all the pricey items and décor, there was a seemingly awkward man. His clothes, which were cheap, still managed to lend him some style. His hair was a mess, as if he tried to style it properly but eventually gave up, and his beard hadn’t had a date with a razor for a few months in the least. Still, what he lacked in self-presentation was compensated with his natural features: steel blue eyes - which he tried to avert as much as possible -, large and sculpted jaw, and sharp, defined lips.

“Guilherme, this is Will Graham. Will, this Guilherme Pontes, who’s also my patient.”

The men courteously shook hands, saying hello.

“I believe I should go then.”, said Will, looking down at his own shoes, avoiding piercing gazes.

“No, no, Will, please, I insist. Do stay. Dinner will be prepared and shall be served soon. In the meantime, why won’t you two serve yourselves with a drink and wait in the living room?”

Will and Guilherme did as they were told, though the former was not pleased in the least with the prospect. Given Will’s preference for whisky, he served himself with the first bottle he encountered. When he offered to serve the other, he neglected, saying he didn’t drink.

Putting the bottle in its rightful place, Will silently scoffed, knowing he had gotten himself quite the company for the evening. He wondered how much of a lunatic this man was.

“So, Mr. Graham-“

“Will.”, he’d interrupted.

“So, Will, what do you do for a living?”

And there it was.

“I am a criminal profiler, but I also give lectures to the FBI on the subject.”

“So, a teacher… No wonder you dress like you do, that job’s a wreck. And with the world gone to shit as it is, I bet you’ve been having a lot of work to do.”

Will clenched his jaw and swallowed a gulp of whisky.

“If you say so.”, he said, looking away.

“What do you do, Mr. Pontes?”

“Oh, please, call me Guilherme. Much like you, I dislike being called by my last name. Makes me feel old. But, that’s not what you were asking… I don’t really do any work. My father worked very hard in his youth and managed to conquer a renowned name here, leaving behind a great fortune. I was never much of a worker, so I try to live with the money he left behind for both me and my sister.”

The urge to roll his eyes was great for Will Graham, but he managed to subdue it.

“How can you even afford a consultation with Dr. Lecter, though? They are quite pricey.”

“Breathe, Will, breathe…”, Graham thought, tightening his hold on his glass.

“I believe that is none of your business, Mr. Pontes.”, Will said, regarding the man with disdain.

Pontes pursed his lips, looked down, and then back up, feigning joy, “Of course it doesn’t. I am so sorry for my probing around, I just am very curious, that’s all.”

Will looked towards the door that lead to the hallway, as if silently calling after Hannibal.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I heard Dr. Lecter calling.”

Will set his glass down and got up, going as quickly as he could without giving anything away.

“Oh, Will, please go wait outside. The food is almost ready.”, Hannibal had said as soon as Will entered the kitchen.

“I don’t care, I am leaving.”, he said, taking his jacket.

“Why?”

Hannibal approached Will, suddenly making him feel claustrophobic.

“Look, Hannibal, I came here to clarify some things between you and I, but, clearly, you are busy with your guest over there, and I don’t believe it is within my power to be much more civil, so, please, just let me go my way.”

Will was about to walk past Hannibal, but the doctor was faster, grabbing his arm and holding him in place.

“He’ll be staying until tomorrow night. I am but sheltering that vile creature only to make his demise come faster. Please, endure this dinner and we can talk later. Maybe even discuss your participation in my plan, which I believe will please you greatly.”

“What plan, Hannibal?”, Will said, sighing, looking tired.

“Await for our conversation and you’ll see. Go now before he starts suspecting something and moves my belongings. You know how that displeases me.”

With a groan, and a murderous look directed toward the psychiatrist, Will put the jacket back where he’d left it before, going to the dining room.

* * *

 

Besides the food, that had been one of the absolute worse dinners in Will Graham’s life.

The flamboyant piece of crap that called itself a “true man” never shut up, commenting on useless information, criticizing everything. He even had a bad word or two about Hannibal’s culinary skills.

“If only it had a little bit more salt. And where is the olive oil in these dishes?”

Only in one instance had Will snickered.

Right after that comment on his food, Hannibal slowly rose his head and looked at Guilherme with controlled anger, tilting his head in the process.

“I’ll make note to prepare the next meals more to your liking.”

Guilherme seemed to realize that he’d crossed a line and looked down, as if ashamed. Of course, he kept talking, but with much more self-restraint.

It had been so hard not to laugh.

But the rest of the dinner had gone bad, leaving Will in a very bad mood.

After excusing himself and wishing a good night, Guilherme finally took off to his assigned room, finally leaving Hannibal and Will with some privacy.

They looked at each other, waiting for one of them to start the conversation.

Will was the one who had questions to ask.

“Now that that little shit’s gone, can we get down to business?”

Hannibal frowned at the choice of words, but invited him to continue nonetheless.

“First of all, I didn’t come here to lick your shoes or submit to you, nor have I come here to solely threaten you and leave. I came here looking forward to kill you, but you got the better of me and that man showed up. So, lost opportunity there.”

“I will not let you steal my liberty, my freedom of choice, ever. Once was enough, and I know better now. I won’t let you break me again, use me as a puppet and then cut my strings when you’re bored. I won’t let myself fall to your charms ever again.”

“I know I said I didn’t come here to threaten you, but this is my last resort now. I am warning you, back off. Stay the hell out of my life. If you ever feel the need to resort to me when all your other toys abandon you or get ruined, rely on the memories you have of manipulating me, hiding my encephalitis and making me pay for the horrible crimes that you have committed. Stay out, and we’ll both go our ways, but I swear on your life, Hannibal, that if you ever try to come after me, I will seek vendetta, and, ultimately, you will die. Understood?”

Will took a breath and stared at the doctor’s eyes. Hannibal seemed unmoved, unperturbed by that whole speech. In fact, he seemed amused.

Standing up, Hannibal started to circle the table and stood behind Will.

“Oh Will, can’t you see? I won’t need to.”, Lecter rested his hands on Will’s shoulders, who licked his lips and gritted his teeth.

“You show up to my house, armed, in the dark, taking in consideration my olfactory skills. You had the perfect opportunity to kill me mercilessly, but you hesitated. You stood there, holding the gun, probably innerly debating whether to pull the trigger or not. You could have left, without a care for the world in many occasions, but you didn’t. You stuck around simply because I told you I had a plan that may or may not involve you.”

“You have just given that speech, trying to make yourself seem changed, stronger, dauntless. You promised many things, but you won’t let yourself fulfill your oaths. You are soft, Will, remorseful, hurt… You are weak, not even remotely intimidating.”

“Do you know why I won’t need to go after you? Because you’ll never leave. And it won’t be because I’ll be holding you: it will be because you’ll want to. How do I know this? You have nothing else to lose, William. Alana won’t ever trust you again, Jack might seem apologetic but he’ll glance at you sideways, the press will always look at you as if you were still accused of being the Copycat… You are alone, and you’ll come to terms with the fact that I am your best chance right now.”

“Hearing this might hurt you now, but you’ll realize I am right. And I have a nice way to let you release your anger and frustration, but only you can decide what you want to do.”

Will wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye and rolled his shoulders back. He turned around on his seat, looking directly into Lecter’s maroon eyes, which seemed black due to the lighting.

Black like an animal, a feral beast.

“And what could that be?”, he asked, his tone even.

Hannibal smiled, patting Will’s shoulder and going to sit down on his previous seat.

“You see, William, my other guest is a very ill-mannered and rude man. The only reason he wasn’t invited to dine with us before is because only now has he come up with an actual emergency, let’s say, to the consultation. His uncle is after his sister, and consequently after him. He needs my protection, so, I decided to provide him just that.”

“And where do I come in in all of that?”

“You, my dear Will, will do me the great favor of slaughtering that pig for me. Make out of him the piece of art he never was.”

Deep breaths. In and out, Will, in and out.

“No, I won’t do that. That is your role, not mine.”

“You see, William, I will have my hands full then with the other pig. I can’t take good care of two by myself… I need you to lend me a hand.”

Graham scoffed, following with a grin. He looked away, wondering how ridiculous it was that Hannibal said he couldn’t take two men at the same time, yet knowing that he could easily, but also cursing himself for even existing, for letting himself stay here and listen to the psychopath in front of him. That utmost insensitive creature, incapable of showing love, compassion, mercy…

It even disgusted him more that he was actually considering the proposal.

Will didn’t want to simply because he’d be killing again. Garret Jacob Hobbs tormented his mind for long enough. He didn’t find in himself the ability of handling another death assigned to his name. He couldn’t.

Bu then, he also needed to gain Hannibal’s trust. He ought to, if he wanted to have his revenge.  

“When have you ever lent me a hand willingly without second intentions?”, he asked, trying to delay the moment where he had to answer.

“Oh, William, I have already helped you so much in so many ways you haven’t yet seen. But you will. I am as certain you will thank me as I was when I said you would find me interesting. Who ended up being right?”

“You found me interesting too.”, Will replied quickly.

“Not interesting, dear Will, fascinating. The workings of your mind are wonderful, something to admire. You see, that is why I will never be bored with you…”

“I am your favorite toy… Your plaything…”

“I wouldn’t say it like that, but you surely are the person that I am most fond of in this world. We can only count on each other now, and I intend to have it that way. What say you Will? Will you take part in this little arrangement?”

No. I can’t.

Yes, you can. Shut up.

No. Stop it.

Say yes.

Shit…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
> 
> If you did enjoy it, you are welcome to leave your opinions in the comment section down below. :) 
> 
> The question for the next few days is: What do you think Will will say? Will he accept Hannibal's offer or not?
> 
> Thank you! See you next time. :)


	5. C.4.: Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narration of the events passed in the night of Guilherme's last supper. Two people are killed. Will is in denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :)
> 
> Today I bring to you the fourth chapter of this fanfic. :3
> 
> I am content with it, despite it being shorter than usual. 
> 
> I must warn you beforehand that this is the most graphic chapter so far, although I'll most likely write worse during this story, so, proceed with caution. 
> 
> Have a good read. :)

It was dark. Silent. Eerie.

His footsteps echoed in the dark, trying to send condemnatory whispers to the inhabitants of that house, who were not present at the moment. His breathing was ragged, his smoking habit made apparent. He could not be seen nor heard. Only felt.

The man approached a division, which he entered upon careful inspection. With his Hi Point C9 handgunheld in the air and a nearly tangible feeling of insecurity in his gut, he approached the counter. He looked around, his gun following his gaze, and, after noting that no one was around, he indulged himself in searching for information on his target’s whereabouts.

He retrieved a little flashlight from his left coat pocket and placed it in his mouth, pressing down on it, keeping it in place.

It didn’t take long before he found what he needed.

Taking the note, the man left just as silently he arrived, his breath calmer but with a slight hint of anxiety, the taste of a promise in his mouth.

* * *

 

The man left the taxi after paying the driver properly. Only then did he take in his surroundings.

He found himself in one of Baltimore’s rich neighborhoods, in which every puff of air drawn felt like breathing in the scent of a 50 dollar bill and looking at the face of Grant.

Before entering, he decided to inspect the house he was searching for. After silently crawling around it, he perceived that only the lights of one room were on. That must be where his target was, right?

He went to the porch and got on his knees, leaning his head on the door and getting his lock picks and his tension wrench from his right coat pocket.

After two minutes, the front door was unlocked with a faint click.

“Time to get ’em…”, he thought. He drew in a breath and opened the door, retrieving his gun from his jeans in the process.

* * *

 

Guilherme felt a lump form in his throat after hearing the clicks.

How could he be expected to just keep eating and acting normally when his possible demise approached with an alarming pace?

He looked to his left and found his psychiatrist looking at him accusingly.

“You’re not playing the part.”

The telepathic allegation hit him like a train. Instinctively, he picked up his glass and sipped on erstwhile delicious wine, which tasted mawkish to him.

Hannibal and Will also rose their glasses, toasting to a cause that was only theirs to know.

And so it started.

* * *

 

In that moment, Will couldn’t hate Hannibal anymore, although his discernment for his feelings had long become defective.

He didn’t know if he felt afraid, disgusted and violated, or if he felt excited, prompted to complete a greater service for a greater cause.

His mind was in a disarray, his consent was broken and he could not glue it back.

He didn’t know if what he was doing was right or wrong, if he was actually acting in honor of reckoning or in honor of the God of Death, which he firmly believed was the only one that existed. We all live to die, after all. We’re all puppets, either of mischief or righteousness. But are the paths really different from each other? Aren’t the means to their ends both questionable?

Within the foundation of a society ruled by “kill or be killed”, is there even space for judgment? Can one even act “correctly” at all times, without ever straying from the path of Light?

If it was possible, Will Graham lost all the faith he had in himself to act that way.

Instead, he decided to forget society’s right and wrong, and did what he had to do in order to feel like he’s done something right.

Thing is, when it came to this whole ordeal around Hannibal, he never knew how he truly felt about anything.

Enlightenment was welcome.

However, with little to no patience for indulging in Philosophy, Will grabbed the cutlery he needed and carved a piece of liver, bringing it to his lips, uncaring about its origins.

He was never much of a fan of organs. Yet, he found himself slowly appreciating the sense of vitality that was hidden within meat.

Hannibal probably realized that. Maybe that’s why he preferred to eat organs over muscle.

It let him live.

He looked up to the door which allowed access to the room, finding it open. An invitation.

Heavy steps made themselves be heard throughout the house. The Pontes man probably thought he was silent.

Will looked at Hannibal, who seemed amused. He seemed to be laughing at the procedure of the amateur.

An easy kill.

The first thing they saw was a gun. Will immediately identified it.

Cheap but functional.

Then, arms covered in a thick black overcoat. Black leather shoes. Grey suit pants. An angry face.

Thick beige eyebrows softly framed his features, which counted with a pointy but thick nose, thin curvy lips and almond shaped grey eyes. His skin was of a darker shade than Hannibal’s, which denounced his southern European roots. He was tall, but shorter than the profiler, lean.

He tricked himself into thinking that he was a thunderstorm, but, in fact, he was but a revolted ocean. He wouldn’t harm anyone if they didn’t get in their way.

“Hello. I do not know you, but I believe we are past introductions as you’ve just assaulted my property.”, Will heard Hannibal say. Everything was like a whisper, but nothing was ever so loud.

Hannibal got up and walked up to the man, who kept his gun aimed at Guilherme but deviated his attention to the incoming rival.

“Don’t get any closer…”, he said, with a thick accent.

“I will shoot him.”

Hannibal shrugged. Such trivial movement seemed out of place in him.

“I care not. But you must at least have something to drink. A glass of wine, perhaps? Please, sit down, so I can serve you.”

Lecter pulled a chair back, courteous as ever.

“Will, if you please, can you also serve our other guest. I believe both of them are in need of refreshment.”

Then, everything slowed down.

Numbly, Will got up and went to the head of the table, where he grabbed the bottle of wine tightly between his shaky hands. He placed himself behind Guilherme and glanced at the psychiatrist.

Hannibal looked down at Guilherme, then back at Will, enticing him to do what he promised.

Will gently shook his head in denial, imperceptible to everyone else.

He served Guilherme. The assaulter laid his gun on the table.

Lecter brought his brows together in a frown, which vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Graham let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

The pendulum swung.

He got his pocket knife from his jeans’ back pocket and clicked it open. He grabbed Pontes’s hair and pushed his head back, revealing his neck.

“I slit your throat like a father tried to kill his daughter. I rejoice in finding a way to avenge what was taken from me.”

His victim bled out, choking in his own blood.

In a fit of rage, Will grabbed Guilherme by the shoulders and threw him to the floor.

“I throw you to the floor and kick you repeatedly. Legs… Stomach… Head…”

When he came to halt, he looked down at the mess he’d made.

There the body lied, its limbs splayed out, its head kicked open, revealing grey matter.

“I see your body but I don’t see you. I know what I did but I have trouble attributing the guilt to myself… I look at you and know that you’ll just be another demon… Another creature to haunt my mind…”

A tear ran down his face, but he did nothing about it.

Will looked at Hannibal, who seemed shocked, which only made him want to laugh. The assaulter had his head laying on the table, who had a nice clean cut on his throat which still oozed blood.

“This is my design…”

Will closed his eyes.  

* * *

 

With a gasp, Will woke up. He sat upright and retreated until his back hit the headboard of the bed he laid in. He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, trying to hide from the world.

The haunting of a lifeless body pursued him in his mind, along the now usual spirit of Garret Jacob Hobbs.

He hid at the river, knee deep in the water, fishing. Only the sound of the water and the soft wind was heard. The sun burned the skin of his face.

He looked to the right and saw it.

The ravenstag was there, standing gloriously as always. Next to it was a tinier version of it, presumably a baby. It had reproduced… Spawned another evil into his world…

Will let the fishing rod go. He stared at the creatures and, without realizing, walked up to them.

He wasn’t afraid anymore. He was in awe.

How could the miracle of life propagate into the pettiest forms of life?

Will knelt down in front of the young, gaping. He extended his right hand to it. The creature approached and leant his head on it, allowing touch.

Then, Will felt like he would scream. He stepped back from both animals, crawling backwards into the stream. The ravenstag crowded him, its omnipotence flowing in waves from it.

Will closed his eyes.

“Will? Will! Can you hear me?”, he heard a faint voice say. He didn’t care for whom it belonged to.

“William, please. Respond.”

Will wanted to remain oblivious, so, he fell into slumber.

* * *

 

Graham woke up again, this time more calmly. He opened his eyes slowly and sat up, taking in the sight of the room he was in.

That was so not his bedroom.

He looked down to his right side and noticed that someone had been laying there recently. Suddenly, he felt cold.

He got up and went to the bathroom. He took a piss and washed his hands. He washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror.

It was as if he didn’t recognize himself anymore. He gaped, frowned, cocked his eyebrows, stuck his tongue out… A panoply of expressions as if to find out if the reflection belonged to him or not.

It did, and he was disappointed.

Will went back to room and looked from something to dress. He found a bath robe that was neatly folded on a chair and decided that it had to do. He slid into the slippers by it and went down the stairs to the kitchen.

At first, he was met with a familiar scent. Crêpes… And coffee. He entered the room and saw that Hannibal was turned to the oven, probably working on a sauce for their breakfast.

He turned around.

“Good morning, Will.”

A twist in the gut.

“Morning…”

“Did you sleep well?”

What do you think?

“I dreamt.”

Hannibal leant on the counter, his arms folded neatly.

“What was it about?”

Will smiled softly, suddenly feeling no trouble in holding eye contact.

“I dreamt of life…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter, I really hope you enjoyed it. :)
> 
> If you did, feedback is always appreciated. :D 
> 
> Thank you again. See you soon! ^^


	6. C. 5.: Stockholm Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack grows cold-hearted; Will assists in a new Ripper display; Adaptation and confessions. Smoochs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there :)
> 
> I know I have been quite absent lately, I know, but, to compensate you guys, I wrote an extra long chapter. 
> 
> I really like it and I think I actually did a good job. I'll explain somethings on the last notes.
> 
> Enjoy your reading :)

There was no one as eager to catch the Ripper as Jack Crawford was.

After his wife’s passing due to cancer, the man’s heart hardened, simultaneously making it easier for him to look at crime scenes, but also easier to hate the killers and even picture a good display of the Ripper’s unidentified body.

One day, he would be able to put a face to the name, he thought. And it would be soon. At least that’s what he hoped for.

This change in character astounded everybody that usually worked with Jack. Of course, they were used to his stressed, tense self, but, when he wasn’t busy, he was always able to crack a joke and make everybody laugh. He was a charismatic guy.

However, after Bella’s death, Jack just isolated himself. Catching the Ripper was his sole purpose in life. Sometimes, his colleagues would wonder about Jack’s future post-Ripper. What would he focus on? Would he finally crack and subside to his inner demons?

His colleagues thought about it, worried as they were, but one person that certainly didn’t even give it a thought was Jack himself.

His attention deviated from himself or others… He just didn’t care.

This whole situation wasn’t healthy for anyone.

Alana tried to help, tried to offer some advice, but, sometimes, speaking with Jack Crawford was equivalent to talking to a door.

She ended up giving up, only hoping for the best. Hoping that this case wouldn’t get him killed, by the Ripper’s hand or by his own.

* * *

 

A very angry looking Jack Crawford stood in front of the Ripper’s new display, red and blue lights flashing everywhere, making the actual street lights seem weak in comparison.

It was a cold night, rainy, and they had to be both careful and quick as to avoid the evidence getting spoiled.

A car pulled up behind him, maintaining a reasonable distance from the man. The glanced at it and immediately recognized the vehicle. He sighed and completely turned around to face the two men leaving the car.

“Dr. Lecter and Will Graham. How surprising to see you together.”, he said sarcastically. The two of them usually came to the scenes together, only diverting from that habit when Hannibal was in the middle of a consultation.

Jack didn’t really give a damn about Will’s lectures, so he just burst in and took Will when needed, leaving a substitute.

The two flashed ironical smiles, already displeased with the man’s manners, although Lecter’s seemed much more polite and well-practiced than Will’s.

“Look, tonight the weather is not helping us out, as you can see, so, we need to be fast. Will, you’ll have to do your empathy thing with people around you, whether you can handle it or not. We haven’t got any time to serve your every whim.”, Jack said with a harsh tone.

Will just pressed his lips together.

“And you,”, he said, looking at Hannibal, “you’ll stay here with me. Your presence was not requested, neither were your services. Your sole purpose here tonight is to take Mr. Graham back to wherever you came from after his service is done. Are we clear?”

Hannibal shot him a murderous look, but smiled nonetheless and nodded. Will clenched his jaw and stood closer to the display, his back turned towards the other two men.

Jack patiently waited for Will to come back with his analysis, inspecting the display again from his place.

There were two identified bodies, Guilherme and José Pontes. The only displayed parts of Guilherme were his head, which was, somehow, placed on an elk’s skeleton, and his skin, which was laying on the floor. The elk was laying down, as if it just had been hunted. Then, José was sitting on a wooden chair, his legs and abdomen tied to the chair, a gun in hand. José has his throat cut, and Guilherme’s skin displayed a much messier cut where his jugular would be.

The message was clear to Jack. The intention behind this display was what he couldn’t place.

Will Graham approached the other two man and placed himself in a manner that enabled him to look at the men and the display comfortably.

 “So?”, asked Jack.

“So, our killer is, like everybody already guessed, the Ripper, which is apparent by the treatment of the hunter’s body. The placement of the bodies, their poses, they indicate that something was going on between these two. Something negative. A fight, argument… Maybe the prey got in trouble with the hunter and, somehow, it affected the Ripper.

>> The Ripper wanted to make that clear. The elk was being hunted down, but both prey and predator were killed by higher elements in the chain.”

“Yes, that much is obvious.”, interrupted Jack, “Though, I think you should clarify what you meant with “elements”. That’s a plural.”

“I was going to get there, Jack… Anyway, you see, the Ripper didn’t work alone. Not this time. He’s got a trainee of some sort, someone who he is trying to turn and transform into something similar to him. Basically, it’s his offspring. He’s trying to leave someone behind to maintain his legacy after his death...”

Will and Hannibal looked at each other for a few seconds.

“At least that’s my guess. Of course, I cannot be certain of this. I only know that the skin area that protects the jugular was cut in a messy, violent manner, unlike the Ripper does usually, and the telling of this story isn’t something the Ripper would do without the influence of someone important in his life.”

Jack looked down, finding difficulty in understanding the insinuations.

“Will, are you telling me that The Chesapeake Ripper, the most talked about serial killer of the present time, has a child?”

Will laughed and looked at Jack as if he was a child innocently saying something that adults knew could be misunderstood and twisted into something perverted.

“No, Jack. This person, whoever it is, isn’t his literal offspring. The relationship these two maintain cannot be labelled. It’s unique, different from anything you’ve ever seen or heard of. The amateur seems to still be adapting, but the Ripper is patient.

>>So patient, he even awarded the person with this display. This is courtship, Jack.”

Jack clenched his jaw, and, feeling it was too much, he turned around and left without as much as a goodbye.

Just as he lost the most important person in his life, the Ripper managed to find someone.

* * *

 

Will and Hannibal were in the latter’s car, driving back to Baltimore. The trip had been silent thus far, but, inside, Will’s chest felt like burning.

His heart was beating hard with rage and unsaid words. He wanted to confess, to accuse, to yell…

Hannibal just focused on the road, looking ahead, his attention doubled as it was night time and the rain got worse.

“Hannibal… Stop.”, Will murmured.

“What?”

“I said STOP! HANNIBAL, JUST STOP THIS FUCKING CAR.”

Hannibal seemed confused and pulled over, parking the car on leaf covered dirt, typical of woods.

“Will, what’s the matter?”

“The matter? Are seriously fucking around with me right now? The matter is that I just lied and omitted to the FBI, the agency that employs me, during an investigation. I obstructed justice. For what? Because I KILLED. I murdered someone in COLD BLOOD. I killed someone I barely even knew just because you asked me to.

>> The matter is that you have your finger wrapped around me, that I am your puppet and I am doing exactly what you want. The matter is that I am letting you control me. And you know what’s worse? I FUCKING LIKE IT.

>> I spent entire nights in jail, plotting my revenge. I was doing things right, until I saw you. You… I want to hate you, I want to throw you behind bars and fulfill my job as a former agent. But I can’t. I CAN’T DO IT. I can’t hate you, or, maybe, I just really love to hate you. I don’t know what’s going on with me and… I am disgusted with myself, I hate what I’ve been doing… Unlike you, I absolutely hate killing. Yet, I find myself replaying those memories in my mind over and over… I still feel the blood, his head cracking under the impacts of my foot, the adrenaline… And, no, I am not haunted by those images. I remind myself of it WILLINGLY.

>> Is this what you want from me, Hannibal? Huh? Was this your plan for me all along? Confusing the shit out of me and making me go insane to the point I am assigned to a ward and cannot wipe my own drool? Do you want to break me that bad?”

Will stared at Hannibal the whole time, expecting a reaction. Anything would suffice at this point. But the doctor seemed untouched by the speech, at least until the last question. Then, his brows furrowed ever so slightly and his eyes showed deep sorrow, something he thought he’d never see on a monster like Hannibal.

“William, my intention was never to break YOU.”, he said, calmly. “I simply wanted to get you rid of your fears, help you gain control. I want to help you realize just how much potential you have in yourself and guide you through your journey to the pinnacle of both our existences. I not only desire for you to keep my legacy upon my death and assume my title. I also want you to pass that same legacy to someone else with as much honor I am passing it onto you.

>> I want you to feel like me when I do what I do and I want you to recognize and accept why I do it and why I like it. I want what’s best for you, William. I can give you the world, as wretched and fantastic as it may be. You just have to take it.”

Will felt himself glued to his seat. He recognized that this was the closest Hannibal would get to a proposal. Not a wedding proposal, that would be dull, but a proposal for a lifetime together in their own way.

In a last attempt to be strong, Will unbuckled his belt.

“That’s bullshit.”

He opened the car door and got out of the car, expecting to be stopped. He wasn’t.

He walked on the rain, arms crossed on his chest, tears washed away… He realized he had stopped moving and knelt on the ground, sobbing.

A hand on his shoulder.

He turned around quickly and threw himself back, “Don’t touch me, DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Hannibal crouched in front of him, face softened, eyes glistening. He seemed positively sad, as much as a psychopath can be.

“You were wrong.”

“Oh, really?”, Will asked, ironically, “About what?”

“I don’t enjoy killing.” Will scoffed, but Hannibal ignored it. “I don’t enjoy having to kill people. Of course, it is my duty to rid this world from the unworthy, from the spoilers of the magnificence our dear Earth has to offer. Do you know what I enjoy, William? I enjoy the sense of power and control it gives me. I enjoy the self-satisfaction and the fact that I fulfilled yet another objective in my quest for redemption and forgiveness from my God.

>> This is what I want you to feel, Will. I don’t want you to enjoy killing, I want you to enjoy what comes from it. Do you understand, Will?”

Will was gaping. He managed to close his mouth and nodded.

He just needed to clarify something.

“You said that you were on a quest for the redemption and forgiveness of your God. I don’t care about the God you worship, I don’t, I just want to know what you did even worse than killing that could have displeased Him?”

Hannibal looked down and then to the sky. “We should get going, William. Being in the rain won’t do us any good. We should get home get you a blanket.”

“No, I won’t go anywhere with you until you answer me.”

“I’ll answer once we get home. Please, come.”

Hannibal got up and extended his hand to help Will up too. The profiler hesitated but he ended up accepting his hand.

* * *

 

Once they reached Hannibal’s house, the pair rushed inside. The got rid of their soaked clothes (in separate rooms) and changed into something warmer. Will was in the rain for a longer time, so Hannibal insisted that he’d go find a blanket whilst the doctor made some warm coffee.

As promised, Will was sipping on his coffee soon enough, staring at Hannibal who was sitting right in front of him.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Hannibal seemed to tense up and he decided to rest his mug back on the counter. He looked straight into Will’s eyes, who wasn’t afraid of eye contact anymore, and held their gaze while he spoke, only looking away a couple of times.

“When I was young, living happily in a big property in Lithuania and enjoying every single moment of being the part of a lineage of counts, I had a little sister. Mischa…” His voice trembled. “I adored her, and felt towards her the same protectiveness as any older brother would to their younger siblings.

>> Then, one day, our parents were murdered in front of us and we were taken hostage. It was awful but I had Mischa. She was my source of strength and hope.

>> It didn’t take long before the authorities found everything and they set out to rescue us. During negotiations, we had our wrists and ankles bound and she was on my lap, crying. Our kidnappers were displeased with the terms and, to fit them more to their liking, they shot her in the head. I was lucky my head was resting on her shoulder at that time, otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it. They took her out of my lap and they cut her up. One of them removed her tiny heart and threw it out the door. Some even drank her blood. They resumed negotiations. They said that they would let me go if the police got them a car and a private plane to wherever. I was let out. A female officer ran to cover me with a shock blanket and took me to an ambulance. The last thing I heard was shots. The men were dead.

>> She was three years old. I was nine.

>> They took me to an orphanage, where I stayed until I was 13 years old. To be succinct, no one liked the kid that never spoke. I was teased, pushed… Never left alone. Until, one day, I snapped and defended myself. Four of the bullies went to the hospital. One went straight into the morgue.

>> I obviously got in trouble for this but I wasn’t forced into any correction house. They allowed my Uncle Robert to adopt me and take me to France as long as I went to consultations with a psychiatrist.

>> Things went well afterwards. I graduated early from high school and was one of the younger people that was admitted into the University of France in Medicine. There, I discovered my love for anatomy and I always seemed to have a special interest in the brain, the human mind. Despite this, I always remembered the way I killed that bully, and how it made me feel powerful, in control. It was therapy for me.

>> I started doing my own little experiences. I kidnapped people while they were unconscious, stole an organ or two and tried to make it seem like nothing ever happened. I have to say the analysis of those organs helped him go further in my field but I am not proud of it.

>> The Police eventually found out and arrested me. Luckily for me, the little evidence they got wasn’t enough for a real conviction and, surprisingly, there were people supporting my release. I was absolved and I fled.

>> It brought me to America. I had settled my mind on not killing again, but, upon coming here, I met too many rude people. They reminded of my Mischa and our captors. I had to get rid of them. That’s how I became the Chesapeake Ripper.

Hannibal stopped talking and Will just blinked. He was quite shocked, if he were to be honest. He recognized that Hannibal had had it worse in life than he ever did and, against his will, his empathy kicked in and he felt a need to almost protect Hannibal. To care for him.

Gulping drily, Will looked down. “Are you saying that you kill to seek the forgiveness of Mischa because you couldn’t stop her death?”

Hannibal raised one corner of his mouth in a sad smile.

“No, William. I seek my own forgiveness. My sister didn’t even have enough conscience to understand death. I had. I always felt like I could’ve done something, anything to prevent her death. But I didn’t. And, despite understanding that it wasn’t my fault, I still can’t forgive myself. That is why I kill.”

“Are you your own God?”

“Is there any other? At least I am someone I can rely on, someone I can feel constantly. I have faith in myself. Any faith I had in the Christian God is long gone. My faith in him died with Mischa.”

“Only such a troubled being could do such awful things, right?”, Graham thought, feeling conflicted.

He was reconsidering what Hannibal had said, about him, about his intentions, his proposal… Will was suspicious, but, at the same time, it felt true. He felt he was being manipulated and should only go with it to get his revenge but, at the same time, he wanted to accept Hannibal for what he was and take this opportunity.

Will wanted to be strong. Will wanted to be control. Hell, no one ever cared for Will as much as Hannibal, why the fuck would he deny himself this? Of course he lied, of course he manipulated, but it could be forgiven, right?

No matter what he ended up choosing, Will knew what he had to do next…

He got up from the stool, dropping his blanket in the process, and cupped Hannibal’s face with his hands. He straddled his lap and stared into his broken maroon eyes. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed Lecter chastely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know I did. 
> 
> Just so this is clarified, I know Mischa and Hannibal's story is kinda different from the one in "Hannibal Rising" by Thomas Harris, but I had to do it since that story fits a certain timeline. In order to make Hannibal a middle-aged man in 2014, I had to alter some details. If you disagree with my analysis of Hannibal's character in this chapter, then I am sorry but, for this story, it's how it's got to be. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Comments are always welcome. :) 
> 
> BTW: Get ready. The smut is coming like winter.


	7. C. 6.: I'm Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tries to remember an intimate moment and assimilates everything; Two months later, we see how he's doing; Will has an important conversation with Alana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there :)
> 
> Just to clarify something, I just changed my pseud to theteacupthatshattered because I felt that was more appropriate for Hannibal fic. :) 
> 
> And, as promised, here is chapter 6. And yes, this chapter marks the beginning of smut in this particular fic. It is explicit and kind of graphic, but it kind of gets softer along with Will's concentration. You'll see what I mean :) 
> 
> Well, the rest will be said on the end notes. Now, please, do proceed with your reading. :)

Will Graham looked at the alarm clock placed on the bedside table. It read 2AM. His eyes fluttered closed and he let himself selfishly indulge in the warmth seeping through his back. In a quick motion, he intertwined his fingers with the ones attached to the person cuddling him, who immediately squeezed Will’s hand.

At some point in the evening, Will let things slip past his control and he felt as if he was watching the ordeal happen to somebody else. His body was devoid of emotion, numbly reacting to stimuli in a way that seemed to please whoever fucked him.

His senses were mixed with the ones of his company, which overwhelmed him quite quickly. His empathic mind couldn’t handle it, hence its blocking.

He was satisfied, oddly at peace, although lethargy was starting to reign his body. He assumed the session had been as physically draining as it was psychologically.

Graham felt a tongue lick his ear shell and teeth nibbling softly at it. He did not care, letting himself feel something in order to compensate for what he lost previously.

As if he could hear his thoughts, the company whispered in his ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“Worry not, my dear William. You will get better at it. You’ll regain control over yourself easily. You’ll tame your empathy. I’ll help you.”

Will opened his eyes and the hairs on his arms, legs, and on the back of his neck shot up in surprise at the recognition and, somehow, also in pleasure.

Memories invaded his mind, triggered by sweet nothings whispered into his ear, and he found himself dwelling in the sensations provided by the remembrances.

_He got up from the stool, dropping his blanket in the process, and cupped Hannibal’s face with his hands. He straddled his lap and stared into his broken maroon eyes. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed Lecter chastely._

At first, the good doctor seemed reluctant to follow Will’s lead, but eventually fell bewitched into the kiss, making it reciprocal.

Will’s hands snaked around Hannibal’s neck, pulling him closer, wanting more, more, more… Hannibal took hold of Will’s hips, running his hands all over the area, ending up settling them on his thighs.

They broke the contact of their lips, but let their foreheads rest against each other. Will’s thumb was caressing the area between Lecter’s jaw and behind his ear, whilst Lecter snaked his fingers around Will’s jean loops.

“William, are you sure…?” The unfinished question lingered in the air between them, being expelled by Hannibal’s breath and sucked in by Will’s own. The profiler nodded against the doctor, letting his left hand fall from behind Lecter’s neck to his elbow and resting his head on his shoulder.

Hannibal turned his head and whispered into Will’s ear, “Do you want to go somewhere more comfortable?”

“Definitely,” muttered Will, feeling stimulated like he hasn’t in a long time. He didn’t really enjoy being intimate with someone mostly because, amidst the haphazard touching, groping and caressing, he usually lost himself in sensation. People would always say that it was supposed to happen, but Will knew to which extent of lost he went.

Slowly, yet quick enough, they reached Hannibal’s room. He remembered it from the night before. As soon as the door was closed, Hannibal crowded Will, who backed away until he fell onto the soft cashmere bedding. He propped himself on his shoulders and found Hannibal undoing his tie slowly, yet vigorously. A sudden wanton for the doctor invaded Will, and he had to muster a great deal of self-control to not pull the doctor to the bed.

Lecter dropped his tie on the floor, something that didn’t fit quite right with Lecter’s usual tidy behavior and organizational habits, and proceeded to lose the vest, which he dropped too. He kicked his slippers off carefully and crawled on top of Will, straddling him. Submission wasn’t something he usually in the bedroom but he guessed it fit with his character, and he found the dominance radiating from Hannibal quite sensual.

Hannibal balanced his weight on his knees and one elbow, his free hand coming to rest on Will’s face. As they kissed once again, Will snaked one hand around the doctor’s arm and the other was placed on Lecter’s shoulder blade.

The kiss deepened to the point where not even their battling tongues could distract him from the heat polling on his lower belly.

He felt too dressed up.

He broke the kiss and sat up, taking off his sweater and revealing his toned torso. Hannibal ran his hands on Will’s chest and abs whilst the other unbuttoned Lecter’s shirt, reveling at the sight of the dense chest hair the doctor possessed in contrast with Will’s lack thereof. The scent of Hannibal’s perfume has a sudden impact on him, and although he couldn’t really place it at the moment, he knew it was expensive. 

Soon, he was once again lying on his back, with the psychiatrist’s hands unbuckling his belt. Once that was done Lecter unfastened the zipper of Will’s jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers.

Hannibal let go of Will’s lips and started to work his way down the profiler’s torso, venerating and glorifying every inch of skin with licks, soft kisses, and tiny bites, taking his time while working on his nipples.

Graham was a panting and needy mess within minutes, blindly groping for Hannibal’s shoulders, his neck, his now unruly hair.

Then, it happened.

Will felt a sudden warm wetness envelop his cock, sucking greedily, hungrily, as if the doctor had been waiting for this for a very long time.

Soft moans and grunts escaped Will’s throat too often for his liking, but Hannibal’s mouth…

Hannibal grabbed the base of Will’s dick, keeping it upright instead of curling towards his belly, and licked the head. He then pressed its point down and around Will’s slit, massaging it and collecting the smeared precum.

Soon, Will was begging Hannibal for something he wasn’t even sure he wanted. He just knew he needed to feel him.

Hannibal got up and retrieved the lube and a condom from his chest of drawers. Without Will’s notice, the good doctor took off his own pants and briefs, now presenting himself completely to Will, sporting what should be a pretty painful erection.

They lost no time.

Will parted his legs wide and let Hannibal work him open, massaging the rim of muscles and flexing them with the intrusion of one, then two and finally three fingers.

Graham found himself inwardly thanking Hannibal for his extensive knowledge in anatomy when he repeatedly hit his prostate with every thrust.

If they kept it up like this, Will would have to ask Hannibal for a cock ring because he was sure he wouldn’t last much longer. Maybe some other time.

When the profiler was all slicked up and relaxed, Hannibal put on his condom and rubbed lube on his own member, which glistened with the soft light of the bedside lamp.

He placed himself atop of Will, about to consummate the act, and panted against the profiler’s shoulder, “This might hurt, William.”

And those were the last words he heard.

As soon as Hannibal’s cock invaded Will, he was lost. He lost notion of what he was doing. Was he the one fucking or the one being fucked? He just felt everything, and, honestly, it nearly drove him mad.

He absentmindedly reached for Hannibal’s ass and took hold of his cheeks, pushing him deeper into him, motivating his movements.

The more the rhythm developed, the more apathetic Will became, the only thing keeping him grounded being the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the wet noises of each intrusion on his hole.

When he reached the climax and came, the power of his orgasm fell on him like a rock. To only make things worse, yet better, Hannibal came, and it was like Will had a whole other second orgasm.

He passed out.

Will let a gasp escape. Did he just fuck with Hannibal Lecter?

He turned around on the bed, now facing the doctor. He brought his hand to his jaw and caressed it. It felt just like he remembered.

Will must’ve seemed confused because the corners of Hannibal’s lips twitched upwards and he nodded ever so slightly.

Graham’s breathing became ragged, disliking the idea of not even being able to fully control his body but finding comfort in the fact that Hannibal was with him, despite being his chain.

The profiler buried his head on the doctor’s shoulder held on to him for dear life.

So they fell into slumber. Together.

Will Graham had no nightmares that night.

* * *

 

Two months later, Will was moving in with Hannibal. It was the most rational thing to do since he was basically sleeping more in Hannibal’s (their) bed more than in his own.

The house in Wolf’s Trap was on sale and, surprisingly, people were looking forward to buy it. Something about being alone amidst the forest attracts people apparently.

Fortunately, Hannibal was kind enough to let Will keep the strays, but under the condition that they stay in the backyard and don’t wander into the house. Will accepted the terms and decided to build a shelter for the dogs in case it rained. Surprisingly, Hannibal helped.

Will was kind to Hannibal too that night, riding him wildly as if he was mounting a horse.

He lost himself with the orgasm, but not as much as usual. Hannibal had looked up at him and said that practice makes perfect. Will agreed.

That statement also applied to Will’s training. It all happened down in the sort-of basement Hannibal has. They go there for a few hours, practice fighting, self-defense, and swordsmanship. They practiced with a wide variety of blades, starting with knives and daggers and proceeding to swashbucklers and one-handed swords. Hannibal said he’d introduce Will to crossbows and greatswords soon.

Will particularly excelled with stealth and escaping techniques. His pick locking was also very good, only needing some more practice to achieve perfection.

They too had been spending more time in the kitchen, introducing Will to varied culinary techniques. He wasn’t too good at it, but Hannibal said he’d keep his faith on him.

His life would seem perfect to the outsider, but there surely was something that he detested: killing.

They’d been killing as if they were the Copycat, not putting much art into their killing, but exaggerating on the gore-y displays. Will reached the point of vomiting times beyond count. He hasn’t eaten anything from his victims yet.

Still, he found himself thinking about his killings and reminiscing vividly how every single death felt, the sense of control that grew with every murder, his boosting self-confidence, and the proud and sometimes shocked looks Hannibal gave him.

He found himself often indulging himself in daydreams of flesh and blood, just like at that moment.

“Hey!” Alana called, interrupting Will’s thoughts.

The profiler looked up and smiled at his friend, who he hasn’t seen or heard much of since his life took a turn. She was looking beautiful, as always, with a nice blue trench coat, jeans, black boots, gloves and a hat. He stood up from the old steps of his old house and walked towards Alana. They hugged.

When the embrace ended though, a bittersweet feeling nestled between them. Alana’s face sported fake mirth, as if she was happy to see Will but wasn’t happy with anything else.

Breaking the silence, Alana clapped, the sound muffled by her black woolen gloves, and said, “Well, let’s pack up.”

“Yeah,” Will responded, dragging the sound out.

They entered the dusty house, strays nowhere to be seen as they were already in Baltimore, and they started organizing items.

Will wasn’t much of a hoarder, and it fell more obvious to him than ever that he didn’t really have that much stuff to pack. Still, he managed to occupy four and a half large cardboard boxes.

They put the boxes inside the trunk of Will’s car and sat on the backseat together, taking a moment.

Alana seemed fidgety, anxious, and Will could practically hear her breathing.

“Alana, are you alright?” he asked, turning his body so his back rested against the car door.

She looked at him and mimicked his pose, “Yeah… I just… I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel about all of this…”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how to react when a former patient and friend decides to move and settle in a relationship with a person I used to be intimate with, that’s all.”

Will repressed a scoff. He understood where she was coming from, but the intimacy she got with Hannibal was never something the doctor took seriously. He used her like he used everybody. He wasn’t sure if that included him or not.

“If it makes you feel better, he wasn’t too into it right off the bat. Said he felt a bit guilty for not tying lose ends with you before we settled our relationship.”

Alana looked down and sighed.

“I also have a very bad feeling about this, you know? I am expecting something awful to happen to you or him or both…”

“What do you mean?” Will asked, sounding more aggressive than he’d intended.

Alana looked into his eyes, “You two never had a normal, healthy relationship, even we you were friends. I am not sure about what happened between you two before you went to jail, but it was bad enough to the point that you kept accusing him of the murders, of being the Chesapeake Ripper... Then, suddenly, you’re getting in each other’s pants? I don’t get it, Will…”

She paused, gathering up courage, and whispered, “I don’t think he’s good for you.”

“Yet, he was good enough for you. Why is that?”

Alana looked to the side and straightened her body on the seat. She then opened the door and left, trotting to her own car.

“Alana!” Will called behind her. He ran and grabbed her arm, turning her around.

A tear ran down her cheek.

“Look, Will, I hope you two have a wonderful relationship and that I am wrong. I hope it lasts many years and you make each other happy the way both of you deserve,” her words felt like venom, although they didn’t sound spiteful.

“Just let me go. We’ll speak some other time.”

Alana entered her own car, Applesauce barking from the passenger’s seat. “Goodbye, Will,” she said, before leaving.

Will stood there, dumbfounded, but he didn’t take long before locking the house up and going home to Hannibal with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

This wouldn’t end well…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it (particularly this one, since, you know, smut). I am not used to write smut but I have read a lot, so, I hope this scene suffices for now. I promise there will be more, and more graphic. But, remember, this story isn't about sex, but it sure is a good addition. 
> 
> And it ends with a sort-of cliffhanger. Wonderful, right? :) Hopefully, it'll make you salivate for more (it's what I am aiming for, tbh).
> 
> As always, kudos and feedback are always appreciated. :) 
> 
> See you soon! ^^


	8. C.7.: Holding On and Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on our lovely women, Beverly and Alana (you also get a little bit of Freddie).

Beverly Katz stood by the door of Jack Crawford’s office, reluctant about going in. She sighed, resting her head back on the wall behind her, her hands squashed between her rear and the wall. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

Jack had been isolating himself lately, including little to no conversation in his daily robotic routine. If he spoke, the subject was guaranteed to be The Ripper or The Copycat, which they concluded long ago were the same killer.

Beverly was worried and wanted to try and make Jack snap out of it, make him realize that he didn’t need to overcome what he’s going through alone, that he didn’t need to push people away, that he didn’t need act like he didn’t care about anyone or anything. She wanted to help him, but, would Jack take her selfless intentions in good faith? Would he be offended? Would he yell and tell her to fuck off? She didn’t know…

A sudden wave of cowardice flooded her. The woman who wasn’t too bothered with corpses and crime scenes and dealt with death on a daily basis was afraid of facing a person with a raging beating heart. Dealing with the compliance of the dead was easier than dealing with the vividness of the living, she figured.

Her heart started to beat wildly with anxiousness and her breath caught. Her expression hardened with the revelation of these symptoms. “Pull yourself together, woman!” she thought, wanting to slap herself but not doing so.

Her hands trembled as she pushed herself off the wall, yet she knocked on the door firmly.

“Come in,” she heard Jack sigh.

Beverly entered the office, closing the door behind her. Jack never met her eye, focusing on rereading the old files regarding, you guessed it, the Ripper.

“Sit,” he told her, an order masked by the soft tone of an offer. She complied, crossing her legs, her fingers laced on her lap. “How can I help you, Beverly?” he asked, ever so formal.

It upset her. Jack and Beverly, despite their professional relationship in the workplace, were actually pretty close. Mostly because of Will in the end, but that didn’t change a thing. She wouldn’t withstand being treated as just a mere employee, another regular agent…

“No, how can I help YOU, Jack?” she snapped, making the other finally look up from his papers.

“Excuse me?” Jack rested his arms on the table and straightened his back, eyebrows raised in disbelief and surprise.

“Yes, excuse you, Jack. What the hell is wrong is you? You come here, you speak with no one, you bury your nose in files you’ve read over a thousand times, you obsess over the Ripper and catching him… Didn’t you think people would get worried? People wouldn’t care? Didn’t you think I would care? Me… One you know you can trust! What the hell, Jack?!”

Beverly was breathing harshly, fuming. Jack just looked at her, which only infuriated her more.

“What, did a cat catch your tongue, Jack? Why don’t you speak to me? With anyone? Is it really that hard for you? Look, you wanting to be alone to cope with everything, I can understand. Isolating yourself from the world to focus solely on your personal revenge, if that’s what this is… I won’t take that shit. I can’t, nor can anyone in this goddamned place! Especially knowing who you were before… Before Bella, before Will Graham, before The Ripper… How does someone change so much in such a short time? How? What did you do with yourself, Jack? How did you become… This?” she motioned at Jack, frowning.

Over the course of Beverly’s little speech, Jack went from surprised to angry to upset to offended and back to angry again. Then, his expression changed into something indescribable, a mélange of varied feelings. It was like looking at the impersonation of “Take 2, Pay 1” shampoo packs. It wasn’t good, and Beverly repressed her urge to cringe.

Jack stood up, his hands firmly on the tabletop, his body leaning over until his face was as close to Beverly’s as it could be. “Ms. Katz, can you bring my wife back?” he asked.

Beverly knit her eyebrows, “No, I can’t.”

“Can you catch the Ripper?”

“Not at the moment, but I am trying m-“ She was interrupted.

“CAN YOU CATCH THE RIPPER, YES OR NO?!”

Beverly inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly before answering, “Not alone.”

Jack squinted at her but sat down again, “Then you are close to no use for me…” The words were spiteful, leaving her frostbitten. 

Beverly gaped, dumbfounded, and scoffed.

“Don’t ever try to patronize me again, Ms. Katz. You might find a dismissal letter on your desk come morning.”

She stood up, walking to the door calmly. She opened it and looked at Jack, “That is if you don’t find it on yours first.” She closed the door behind her and went to the lab.

‘They weren’t kidding when they said science was simpler than people…’ Beverly thought, squaring her shoulders and walking with her head held high.

When she arrived, Jimmy and Zeller looked at her and tensed up, immediately sensing that something was wrong.

“Shit, what happened, Bev?” Zeller asked, eyes wide in anticipation.

“Nothing much. Just had a chat with our dear Crawford.” She said passively, walking towards their most recent corpses and picking up a magnifying glass. She inspected his face closely.

After a while of just looking at each other nervously, Zeller and Price asked simultaneously, “So? What happened?”

She rolled her eyes, “What do you expect, geniuses? I vented, he asked me if I could bring Bella back and catch the Ripper, to which I replied “No” and “Not alone” respectively, and he dismissed me, saying that I was “close to being of no use” to him. Also, he said to never patronize him again and threatened that I’d get fired if I ever tried. I said that it would only happen if I didn’t quit first.”

Price just stood there, still as a statue, whilst Zeller puffed out a breath. “Holy shit,” they muttered.

“What are you going to do now?” inquired Price, eyebrows cocked.

Beverly sighed, relaxing a bit. She looked up at the pair, “I don’t know… Guess I’ll just keep working silently, but you already know that is near impossible…”  She paused.

“I think I’ll just try and lay low for a bit. I really don’t want to lose my job.”

“You always have that offer from that University, right? To do research with their funding,” Zeller replied, shrugging.

Beverly’s lips twitched upwards, “Yeah, but I don’t get to shoot guns as a researcher. Plus, I’m not the sitting down type.”

Zeller and Price smiled and nodded. At least they were a team.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay. So, tell me Dr. Bloom, how did you meet Dr. Lecter?”, inquired Freddie Lounds, jotting down quick words on her little notebook.

Alana didn’t know why she agreed to this, why she was sitting down at a café with Ms. Lounds for an interview, and she definitely didn’t know why she said “Yes” so quickly, especially considering that it was Freddie Lounds, the woman who ran Tattlecrime.com, the website that has leaked so much information on many FBI investigations that should have been kept hidden, that has ruined Will’s life and made people suspect Hannibal.

Alana felt dirty, yet strangely emancipated, something she hasn’t felt in a long while. She wanted to run but made herself stay. Maybe if she sated Freddie, she would finally leave her alone and pursue someone else. God knows Freddie has been appearing next to her a lot lately.

“I met him many years ago… He was a mentor for me in the field of Psychology and I learned a lot with him. He says that he learned as much from me, but I highly doubt that. I was a new addition to the area, after all,” she crossed her arms, leaning back on the booth, expression hardened.

Freddie was writing again. “Did you lose contact after that?”

“Yes. We were pretty close but we just went on with our separate lives. We did regain contact a while ago. I recommended him to Jack Crawford when we were trying to profile Garret Jacob Hobbs, father of Abigail Hobbs. You already know that, though,” Alana smiled, tight-lipped, and Freddie looked at her, recognizing the provocation, but seemingly not bothered by it.

“And, after that, you started to work together in some cases, but, your bond intensified over Will Graham, am I correct?” Freddie asked, eyebrows cocked. Eye for an eye…

“Yes. Will Graham is a very special individual with a very peculiar mind. He fascinates everybody in our field of knowledge and everyone seems to want to have an appointment with him. They want him to be a compliant specimen for examination. I try to ensure that doesn’t happen and certainly am glad that Will is being accompanied by Dr. Lecter.”

The sound of furious writing was beginning to get on Alana’s nerves. Freddie didn’t look up when she asked, “What was the extent of your bond? From what I’ve heard, there’s been quite a love triangle between you three.”

Alana clenched her jaw, “That is not true…”

Freddie did look up now, knowing smile on her lips, “Really?”

Alana squinted at her, her lip corners twitching, “Yes. Our relationships are strictly professional.”

Freddie was grinning now. She looked down at her notebook, amused, and wrote some more. “My mistake then,” she looked at her watch to check the time.

“Are we done?” inquired Alana, looking out the window. People walking by, protected by their umbrellas, cars rushing, the rain drops falling violently against the window panes. It all felt familiar to her, and it lent her some comfort.

“Not quite. I have more questions,” Freddie smirked. “Tell me Dr. Bloom, when Will Graham was incarcerated, how did you feel?”

Alana sighed, “I felt awful, obviously. I always remained hopeful that it was all a big misunderstanding and that Will had been unjustly imprisoned. But the evidence was so overwhelming… I was starting to wrap my mind around him being The Copycat when The Ripper assumed that identity and I felt even worse. I had lost faith in Will’s innocence, when I was so sure of it before…”

“I bet Dr. Lecter’s bed was a nice place to seek comfort, I bet. You did seem reluctant to leave it,” Freddie enticed.

Alana was outraged, “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I have little birdies everywhere, Dr. Bloom. If I want to discover something about someone, I am guaranteed to find it. Also, your reactions and facial expressions give it away.”

Alana flattened her palms on the tabletop and leant forward. She whispered through gritted teeth, “I did not sleep with Hannibal Lecter!”

“Of course, not. What was I thinking?” Freddie replied, mockery in her tone.

Deciding that was it, Alana stood up, put on the overall and grabbed her purse and umbrella. She turned around and started to walk towards the door.

“If you leave now, you’ll only confirm everyone’s suspicions!” Freddie called behind her.

Alana stopped and turned around, disgust written on her features, “Fuck you!” she cursed. She left the café and nothing stopped her this time.

Needless to say, when she checked Tattlecrime.com later that night, a new interview was up.

For such a despicable human being, Freddie did have one quality: she didn’t misinterpret dialogue nor did she write whatever she wanted to create her own stories. Everything that was there was true, and Alana hated the redhead even more for that.

When Jack Crawford called later that night, after weeks of not directing words toward her, she didn’t withstand it. She admitted she made a mistake but didn’t take his attitude. She was too pissed for that.

When she belatedly went to bed, she couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep and she felt utterly humiliated. Apparently, she was a fool after all...

In the morning, as she went to the Academy to give her lecture, saying that people looked at her weirdly was a euphemism. She couldn’t really bring herself to care about strangers as her priorities lied elsewhere.

She didn’t want to spoil her relationship with both Will and Hannibal even more. They were still important to her, no matter how much their relationship worried her or broke her heart.

After class, she decided to grab a coffee. As the ones available in the coffee machines at the Academy were only good if you wanted a scalded tongue, she headed to a nearby coffee shop, which was surprisingly not a Starbucks.

She waited patiently in line for her turn and ordered a Cappuccino. After paying, she sat on a booth and got out some files and a notebook. ‘Might as well get some work done’, she thought.

Her cup was half empty when someone sat on the end of the booth. Looking up, she felt herself blush as she found Will Graham.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. He brought his cup of what she thought to be a black coffee to his lips, sipping on it despite its temperature.

“Hey,” she replied, sitting back with her back straight, “How are you?”

“Oh, I am over the moon. You?” he asked, a smile playing his lips. It looked out of place on him.

“I am fine.”

“I bet. Being interviewed by Freddie Lounds leaves anyone radiating with joy.”

She closed her eyes and internally cursed. “You’ve seen it, huh?”

“Yes, so has Hannibal. I showed him,” he paused, looking at her quizzically, “I just didn’t understand why you agreed to it. You already knew it wouldn’t end favorably for you, I mean, it’s Freddie Lounds, and anything can only ever be beneficial for her, so, why?”

She opened her eyes, brows furrowed, “I don’t know why and can’t give you an answer. I don’t know what went through my mind. I just said “Yes” too quickly and, next thing I know, I am being pocked with a stick. It felt good, though… I felt empowered. But it also felt wrong… I still feel wrong. I made a huge mistake, and for what?”

Will looked down, the same smile still plastered on his face, only softer, “Revenge.”

“What?” Now it was her turn to look at him quizzically.

“You did it for revenge, to have the last word. You didn’t realize it, probably still don’t, but you did it so you could regain some footing on yourself and your life. I know you’ve been conflicted about what happened between the three of us, and people have been whispering behind our backs about it too. It’s understandable.”

Alana just listened, mouth agape.

Will leant forward, “Look, Alana, we are not mad at you, we don’t really care, but you should try and be more careful, for your own sake. And you can’t keep living like this, it’s unhealthy. Be a little more selfish, regain your power, be strong, hurt someone every once in a while if it’s needed… I just want you to be fine.”

Her frown deepened, and she said, offended, “Don’t scold me! I am not a child, Will!”

“Then don’t act like one!” he yelled.

And that’s when Alana opened her eyes.

She looked around her dark room, the buzzing of her alarm clock making her slowly forget the dream she just had.

Despite the oddity of it all, she did find inspiration to change her life from it, so, when she got out of bed and went to take a shower that morning, she settled that she would do exactly what dream Will had told her too: be more selfish, regain her power and be strong.

As she walked out of her house, the cold hit her powdered face and a sense of complacency nearly knocked her off her head. There was no interview, no one knew anything about her private life, everybody still respected her, Freddie Lounds didn’t get the best of her.

She was Alana Bloom: one of the best in her field, a woman amongst men, and she wouldn’t let herself down ever again. She was strong, she was intelligent, and she would not let anyone get in her way, not again.

Could she live up to it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! :)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It was very fun to write from different perspectives!
> 
> I want to thank you all for sticking around, for bookmarking, subscribing and leaving kudos behind (sometimes even commenting). It means a lot to me, and, as any writer can verify, this feedback is a great encouragement.
> 
> I haven't been posting a lot, I know, I just have been occupying myself with other things and pushed this story to the back of my mind for a while, but I never forgot it. 
> 
> (Also, I do know where I am going with it. The whole story is planned out, I just need to write the chapters)
> 
> Thank you again for everything, guys! Kudos and feedback are always appreciated! :)


	9. ANNOUNCEMENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which the author explains why there haven't been any updates, her current mindset and what will happen.

Hello there, lovelies! Long time, no see.

I must apologize for I have been absent for a LONG time and haven't been updating this fic. In fact, all my writing plans have been postponed (and, trust me, I have good ones).

I started school on the 17th September, if I am not mistaken. Soon to be 2 months. I am currently in 10th grade in an Arts Course. My timetable is very concentrated in the afternoons, which means I have three free mornings. One of those is occupied with my music classes. The other two are for me to get up later and relax a bit before school. On top of this, I am in the school's Theater club, which means I only arrive home after 8PM. Most weeks, it's only twice, but, with rehearsals, it can go up to 3 times + a saturday morning. Then, I have Cambridge English classes at C2 level once a week, which requires me to do some 3 more hours of extra work at home. I also have to study to keep up my high grades.

What do I intend to say with all this over-sharing? I simply do not have time at the moment to write fanfics, nor have I got my concentration set on my writing. I am currently overwhelmed and am starting to regret joining the Cambridge course but there's money involved so it would suck to quit now.

This will be a busy year for me and, honestly, time has been flying by lately. Meeting new people, making new friends, facing my fears, working a lot... It's been exhausting! Also, although I can still spend some time on social media, that's basically what I do. Mark my presence on social media. That's what I have been using my computer for... 

I have projects planned and written down, but I can't make them come true at the moment.

That was the first topic I wanted to discuss. The second one: current mindset.

As I have mentioned, I am not focused on my writing for the time being, nor do I feel like I have the energy/patience to write. Also, I believe that what I have been coming up with isn't that good.

Yes, I mean I am not really confident in my stories, particularly in "The Mongoose and The Snake". 

Apparently you guys disagree with me. I mean, it's been going well when it comes to ratings! I am very thankful for that, btw! But I still can't help feeling like it's way too off-character. They kind of took a life of their own and I just typed, but I changed my mind since my latest update: I lost track of what I was doing. Funny, right? I said the exact opposite of this last time. 

I might try to save this fic and turn it into what I want it to be, but I might not be able to without changing many things on previous chapters, which leads me to my third and last topic: the future.

As I am busy at the moment, I can guarantee to you that no updates will come till the holidays. Then, in those 2 to 3 weeks, I shall try my damnest to bring you quality chapters. 

I have been tempted to delete this story but I decided that it would be excessive so, I am keeping it, but don't be surprised if some things on the previous chapters are altered. That's how writing is like: write a rough draft and then smooth it out until it is as perfect as it can be.

And, this concludes my rant.

Once again, thank you for all of your support. Also, thank you for the taking the time to read this. I means a lot to me.

I am sorry if you have been waiting for a long time for the next update, but you'll have to wait a little longer. 

Thank you! I shall see you soon! Bye! :)

\- Sofia


	10. Farewell

Hello guys.

I am sorry to announce that this story won't be continued.

I didn't follow through with what I had planned before and didn't edit this story. Besides having writer's block for this story, I no longer am a Hannigram shipper. 

I am not going to justify this shift, because I don't need to, but what I am going to do is announce the upcoming changes.

This account will most likely not be used from now on, as, although I still love Hannibal and am excited for the upcoming season, I am no longer interested in writing fanfiction for this fandom. It isn't in my interests anymore. I am not going to orphan this work, as no one proposed to take over and give continuity to the fic, but I am not going to delete this. It'll stay up, only not ended. 

I will create a new AO3 account now, unitedstatesofphantasia, and, if you are a phan shipper, you can start keeping up with me via that account, as I will be posting phanfiction soon. I also have a wattpad account, which is unitedstatesofphan. I also have a tumblr, unitedstatesofphantasia, where I post daily (not writing, but you can keep up with me through that, if you wish).

I have to say that I am very thankful for all the support I got with this fic, but I just am not feeling it anymore, you know? The last couple chapters felt like an obligation to write, and I want to write stories that fulfill me and make me feel good, not obliged and stressed. 

Thank you for everything. This was a journey I will never forget.

I love you all.

Goodbye.


End file.
